


An Unusual Arrangement

by mrs_leary (julie)



Series: An Unusual Arrangement [1]
Category: Merlin (TV) RPF, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-22
Updated: 2009-08-22
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colin Elliot fell in love eight years before with the dashing young Captain Bradley Wentworth, but he was persuaded not to accept Bradley’s suggestion that they share a home. Now at last they are brought together again – but it seems that the rich and successful Captain Wentworth is instead in search of a wife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unusual Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> This loosely follows the 1995 movie _Persuasion_. Only with more sex.
> 
> It was written for my darling friend **gealach_ros** for whom I attempt the impossible: to not only live up to her expectations and to our dear boys, but also to Jane Austen and one of our favourite novels.
> 
> ♥ Nominated for Best AU in the Bradley/Colin pairing of the Merlin Slash Awards, Spring 2010. ♥  
> ♥ Nominated for Best Long in the Bradley/Colin pairing of the Merlin Slash Awards, Spring 2010. ♥

♦

### Kellynch Hall, Somersetshire

Colin had spent the morning on various household matters, all exacerbated by the current situation, and then led his usual lessons for the children of the estate – it was arithmetic on Tuesdays. Which made him unavoidably late for the Elliot family meeting, but of course they had started without him. Financial matters had reached a crisis point. Their lawyer Shepherd had come to discuss the options available to them, and their neighbour Lady Russell was there to offer advice. Apparently the plan now under discussion was to rent Kellynch Hall to a naval man.

‘No,’ was the immediate response of Colin’s father, Sir Walter. ‘I will not have a sailor in my house. I strongly object to the Navy. It brings persons of obscure birth into undue distinction, and it cuts up a man’s youth and vigour most horribly.’

‘If you will not have a naval man as a tenant,’ Shepherd advised, ‘then the only course open to you is to retrench.’

‘Retrench?!’ Sir Walter exclaimed.

‘Retrench?!’ echoed Colin’s older brother Laughlin. Such a ghastly prospect had almost startled him out of his indolent pose by the fire.

‘A baronet must not only _live_ like a baronet,’ Sir Walter declared, ‘but be _seen_ to do so.’

‘Pardon an old friend of the family for being so blunt, but your debts are extreme, Sir Walter,’ Lady Russell said. ‘There are a number of economies that could be made in terms of servants, journeys to London, carriages… I have consulted Colin on some points of detail, and –’

Laughlin lifted a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Colin? Whatever for?’

‘The Elliots would have come to this pass a year or more ago, but for his diligent care of the household and the estate.’

A silence lengthened. Sir Walter did not so much as glance at his second son, and Laughlin remained unimpressed.

‘Perhaps,’ Shepherd ventured, ‘you might live in Bath, with all the importance due to your place in society, at comparatively little expense.’

Sir Walter looked thoughtful. Everyone awaited his verdict. Eventually he announced, ‘I am for Bath. I have always said that Bath is incomparable.’

Relief rippled through Lady Russell, Shepherd and Colin. ‘Father,’ the latter began, ‘if you would care to –’

‘Who is this Admiral Croft?’ Sir Walter asked the lawyer.

‘A Rear Admiral of the White. He was in the Trafalgar action, and has been stationed in the East Indies these past few years.’

‘Then I take it that his face has both the colour and the texture of a macaroon.’ Sir Walter laughed at his own wit, and Laughlin stretched to a smile.

‘The Admiral is a little weather–beaten, to be sure, but not much. And Mrs Croft has connections here in Somerset. She is sister to a gentleman who lived at Monkford some time ago – though I cannot for the life of me now remember his name. Colin, _you_ will recall.’

‘Wentworth,’ Colin said. But the name was barely more than a husky whisper on his dry lips, and he had to clear his throat before trying again. ‘Wentworth.’

‘Oh, the curate,’ Sir Walter said dismissively. ‘He was nobody. Quite unconnected. Really, this doesn’t cast Mrs Croft in a good light at all.’

Colin stood from his chair, wanting to protest, argue. Or walk out. His hands fisted at his sides, and he opened his mouth to speak. But it was all quite useless. Lady Russell was the only one to cast him a sympathetic look, and her glance counselled caution. Colin shut his mouth, let his hands fall open, and sat down again, feeling quite pathetic.

‘Said I something amiss?’ Sir Walter asked, apparently _soto voce_ , but of course everyone in the room heard him.

‘You remember, father,’ Laughlin replied in a lazy drawl. ‘The curate’s brother was Colin’s particular friend.’

‘Let us not pursue it,’ said Lady Russell.

Shepherd merely looked puzzled. But once he judged he could break the renewed silence, he came to a swift agreement with Sir Walter that the Crofts could take possession of Kellynch Hall at Michaelmas.

‘In the meantime, Laughlin,’ concluded Sir Walter, ‘we will head for Bath and make the most of this glorious weather. Can you be ready in a week?’

‘Yes, father.’

‘That won’t be long enough for Colin,’ Lady Russell observed. ‘Not to pack up the house.’

‘Then he can stay here,’ said Laughlin quite forcefully, ‘for as long as he needs, for we shan’t want him. And when you’re done, Colin, our sister Maura requires you to attend her in Uppercross. She is indisposed.’

Colin looked at the floor, desultorily weighing the relevant merits of Bath, Uppercross and an abandoned Kellynch Hall. There wasn’t much to be said for any of them.

♦

The servants had retired for the night, and the house seemed large and empty. Colin had been working on general household tasks all day, and was now sorting through some of his personal possessions which had long been stored away in trunks in the attics. School books, a favourite wooden toy boat from his childhood, the few letters Maura had sent him while at school or staying with friends, the dove–grey woollen shawl his mother had once taken from her own shoulders and wrapped around his. The _Navy List, 1806_.

Colin’s fingers hesitated before picking it up. Scraps of memory fell through him, fresh as if they had occurred yesterday rather than eight years before: blue eyes, bright and confident and merry; golden hair, shifting like silk; a brand new ink–blue captain’s uniform. Colin drew back a little, warily letting the volume fall open at a well–worn page. A letter slipped out onto his lap, and he stared down at it. Remembering.

The ballroom had been quite airless, the general mood grown unattractively raucous. Once he’d fulfilled his obligations in terms of dancing, Colin had slipped out onto the wide balcony, and then down into the garden. His late mother’s roses, doing less well now without her interest, nevertheless cast a cool fragrance. Colin wandered past them and onto the lawn, into the peace of late evening.

Glancing back as the music and howls of laughter reached another crescendo, he saw a silhouette on the balcony, a fine upright figure he would recognise anywhere. It was Captain Bradley Wentworth, who was spending some indeterminate part of his shore leave with his brother Edward, curate at Monkford. The anticipated date of his departure kept receding into the future, but Colin was not sorry it was so. The two of them had quickly become such very good friends, having similar tastes and values, wildly differing opinions, and yet complementary dispositions.

Bradley was standing there at the balustrade, apparently staring down at him. Colin lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

And then the captain was striding down the steps, through the garden, across the lawn – right up to Colin, Bradley’s expression serious, determined. Colin imagined him boarding an enemy ship, the men quailing before him. But apparently he had an entirely different intention now. Bradley took Colin into a loose waltz position, entirely inappropriate of course, in so many ways – drew him gently into a few steps – then led him away across the grass, spinning him round, until Colin couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it. The delight of it. Bradley’s smile grew irresistibly in response.

They slowed again as they left the lights and noise of the ball behind, and found themselves alone in the dark hush of the night. Bradley led him in a few last steps, and then they stilled, though Bradley didn’t let him go. They stared at each other, Bradley turning serious again, and Colin’s laughter faltering into silence. A long moment stretched. Bradley didn’t let him go, but instead drew a little nearer.

It occurred to Colin then that if he himself were a young woman rather than a man, Bradley might have kissed him. He almost became convinced that, indeed, Bradley was about to do so regardless. The night seemed to pause, waiting, with its breath stopped. Bradley drew a little nearer still, and Colin stayed there for him, wondering.

‘Wentworth!’ came a cry.

The moment broke. Bradley drew back, withdrawing his hands, his lips parting in dismay, no doubt shocked at what he had been about to do.

‘ _Wentworth!_ Where the devil have you gotten to?’

Bradley broke away, walked back towards the house at a brisk pace. ‘Here! Just taking the air.’ It was three of his naval friends, visiting the country and invited in his honour, obviously keen to make the most of their time together.

‘What on earth tempted you out into the wilderness? You won’t find any of the old man’s champagne or whiskey in the rose bushes! Come back inside.’

Bradley didn’t reply, or not that Colin heard. Perhaps he was incapable of matching their usual banter. The four of them disappeared back into the babble.

Colin stood there alone, aware of the cool night air and the distant stars and the flow of the nearby brook as it wound through the willows. And at the age of nineteen he knew himself. For the first time he truly knew himself. And he knew that he loved.

♦

Eight years later, he moaned a little, brushed shaky fingertips across the lips that Captain Bradley Wentworth hadn’t kissed. He held that moment in his mind; that moment brimming over with possibilities. The night alive around them, and Bradley’s eyes warm and blue even in the moonlight, that gaze running over his face in curiosity, in hunger. _‘Wentworth!_ ’ And he pulled away in dismay.

No. Colin returned to that moment, that one moment, in which he and his love and the world were in perfect accord. His fingertips trailed down his chin and throat, down the linen of his shirt over his breastbone. Thinking of Bradley’s wide happy mouth, and wondering whether he’d have tasted salty like the ocean or uncomplicatedly sweet like his smiles. Fingers running lightly down the thicker weave of his trousers over his hardness… He moaned again, unsure of whether he should allow himself this.

That one moment in which anything might have happened. In which the entire course of his life might have irrevocably shifted. Colin groaned, quickly unbuttoning his trousers, plunging his hand within, curling up on the dusty floor, careless – careless of anything but what might have been, what almost was. _‘Bradley,’_ he whispered, taking himself in hand. _‘Bradley,’_ as he unwound, stretching out tall on his back, stroke firm and unwavering. As a naval man might do it. Feeling the floor sway beneath him, rising up and sinking down again, like he imagined the rhythm of the endless ocean waves. _‘Bradley,’_ as he fumbled for his handkerchief into which to spend – and the waves crashed into foam on the shore, and then receded.

He curled up again afterwards, alone. Soon growing cold, but too chagrined at his self–indulgence to reach for his mother’s shawl. Instead he let his fingers trace the lines of ink that made up his name on the direction of Bradley’s letter. Remembering.

Colin had spent that night in a state of suspense. He was sure Bradley had felt something similar to what Colin felt for him, even if it had only been the impulse of the moment. But Bradley had walked away. And they hadn’t actually kissed, after all. Perhaps it was impossible that they ever should, or that anything could ever come of it. What could possibly come of it?

Except the very next morning – early, as if Bradley hadn’t slept, but had instead spent the small hours thinking and writing – Colin was eating breakfast on his own, before the rest of the Elliot family had even stirred, and a letter was brought into him. A letter which contained a proposal that amounted to, well… almost a proposal.

>   
> _Dear Mr Elliot – Colin – my dear friend –_
> 
>  _You once said to me that if you were permitted a useful occupation, it would be teaching. You said to me that you **desired** an occupation. (Indeed, I cannot imagine what I would do with myself if it were not for the demands of the Navy.) My brother Edward tells me that Monkford is in great need of a school teacher. You are known here – you are respected and highly esteemed. The post would no doubt be yours if you cared to apply for it, as it has sat vacant for some months, and of course no one could question your suitability._
> 
>  _I confess that I have my own interest in the affair. There is a delightful cottage here, situated just outside the village in its own little dale, that has recently become available. And I have spoken to you about my yearning for a home. When I am on shore leave, I cannot always be imposing on Edward, or chasing after my sister Sophia and her husband from place to place. And yet there is no point in having a cottage and letting it sit empty for several months in the year._
> 
>  _My intention, if you agree to all this, is that you share the cottage with me. That you live here in Monkford, among people who care for you – that you teach the children of the village. And that your home is also my home, to which I will return happily at the end of each voyage._
> 
>  _An unusual arrangement, I agree. But perhaps it will suit the most unusual, the most valuable man in all my wide acquaintance._
> 
>  _Let me have your answer when you can. Whether it is yea or nay, I will of course remain your true friend._
> 
>  _Bradley Wentworth_

Colin had immediately sent a happy reply, and began drafting an application for the teaching post. But once Sir Walter and Laughlin were apprised of the plan, they forbade any consideration of it. They had never been so explicit on the matter before, but it was not to be dreamt of that a son of a baronet should have a useful occupation – not even a second son, not of this particular baronet. And if he had, then it would not be as a village school teacher.

Colin might have attempted to defy them, or at least determine to wait until he was of age and then take his own path, if Lady Russell had not united with the others. Her reaction was all surprise, and she spoke lengthily about the unsuitability of Colin involving himself so closely with a man who had nothing but his naval pay and hopes for a bright future, which probably would not come to anything given his lamentable lack of connections. She went so far as to hint that the money Colin would have from his mother once he was twenty–one, would draw the wrong kind of interest from some…

Though he disagreed with most of what was said, by the end of the day, Colin had been persuaded to send another letter to Bradley indicating that the proposed arrangement was after all unsuitable.

Colin only saw him once more after that, at some distance in the village. As Colin came out of a tenant’s home, having delivered the last of cook’s preserves, he saw Bradley at the inn that served as a coach house, farewelling one of his naval friends. Bradley stiffened as he glimpsed Colin, and his expression became fixed. Gone was the easy posture of that fine figure, gone that warm confident smile. Bradley didn’t even acknowledge him, but just turned and walked away. Which is when Colin had begun to doubt his own sense of what had occurred.

♦

Kellynch Hall echoed emptily as Colin wound his way for the last time through white–shrouded furniture. Lady Russell was coming to drink a farewell cup of tea. ‘For eight years, you have been too much at home,’ Lady Russell offered. ‘A change of scene will do you good. Do you travel directly to Uppercross?’

‘Yes. I prefer to be gone when his – when Admiral and Mrs Croft arrive.’

‘When your dear mother was alive…’

‘There was moderation in our home. And there was sympathy and understanding.’ Colin sighed. ‘Lady Russell… I fear she would not have advised me as you did.’

‘We shall not speak of it.’

‘He proposed an excellent course of action. I cannot stand to be idle all my hours. I hate to be so dependent. In some ways, I feel he knew me better than anyone.’

‘After a few months’ acquaintance? And he did not prove to be a true friend after all, did he? Have you heard from him since then, even once?’

‘No.’

‘You were but nineteen, Colin! He did seem to be a fine young man, but it was a most unsuitable scheme in which to involve yourself.’

‘Now I am twenty–seven, and what do I have to show for these years that have passed?’

‘You almost held this place together for your family, Colin. You could not have done so from a distance.’

‘And yet I failed, and the family has broken apart.’ He poured them more tea, but he repeated it with a light sadness: ‘And yet I failed.’

♦

### Uppercross, Somersetshire

Of course Maura wasn’t ill so much as in need of sympathy and attention and assistance with her two boys, all of which Colin was willing enough to provide, though he did try to gently rally her efforts on her own behalf. He was only four years older than her, but at times she made him feel as if he were from their parents’ generation.

Colin had a happier time of it at the Great House, where he and Maura soon went to call on her parents–in–law the Musgroves, and their daughter Louisa. The Musgroves were a good–humoured family, simple in all the best ways, and Colin was always made to feel welcome there.

Louisa was immediately showing off her latest lengths of dress material, insisting on gaining Colin’s opinion on whether the red or the green velvet would suit her better for a ball gown, and then declaring he was quite wrong to choose the green – but all in such a playful way that he couldn’t help but be charmed. Louisa might be as self–willed as Maura, but she took such a delight in life and in the people around her that she was a joy to spend time with if one only had the necessary reserves of energy.

It was particularly gratifying that Maura’s husband Charles soon appeared to greet him, out of breath due to hurrying away from his shooting. ‘My good man!’ Charles declared, encompassing Colin in a warm fraternal hug. ‘I came as soon as I heard you’d arrived. How truly excellent to see you.’

‘And you, Charles. It’s always a pleasure. You look very well.’

‘Got a brace of pheasant this morning. And father hit a squab, but the dog couldn’t find it.’ All the Musgroves laughed over this misfortune. ‘Feel pretty well, Colin, thank you, yes.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

Charles was pondering his young sister. ‘Must have you dancing this time, Colin, rather than always playing the piano for us.’

‘But he plays so very well!’ Louisa protested.

Mrs Musgrove agreed. ‘Lord bless me, it makes me dizzy to watch him! How those long fingers of his can fly about!’

‘Well, I for one would prefer to see him dance for once,’ Charles stoutly declared.

‘I will play, too, if you wish,’ Maura offered. ‘I am quite as accomplished as Colin.’

‘Why, thank you, Maura,’ Mrs Musgrove said, drawing on all her graciousness.

It was Louisa who finally quashed her brother’s scheme. ‘Oh, but we all know Colin does not care to dance.’

And he was forced to say, ‘No, I do not.’

♦

After they took possession of Kellynch Hall, the Crofts came to call on Maura and Colin at the earliest opportunity. They seemed wonderful people – considerate yet direct, friendly without presumption – and the Admiral was an immediate hit with Maura’s two boys, which always bode well for Colin. A child’s instincts were often absolutely correct when it came to forming first impressions of people.

Soon the Admiral and little Charles and Walter were off making paper boats, with Maura anxiously hovering and fretting about using the coarser parchment. Which left Colin sitting at a little remove with Mrs Croft. Bradley’s beloved sister Sophia. Who immediately looked at him very directly, and said, ‘I understand my brother had the pleasure of being acquainted with you when he was in this country. Perhaps you have not heard that he is recently married…?’

Colin hadn’t realised he’d still harboured hopes until now when they were finally irrevocably crushed. ‘That is excellent news,’ he managed well enough. ‘I wish him every happiness.’

‘With your permission, I will tell him so in my next letter.’

‘Please do.’

‘Oh, and at last he has a new curacy! They are settled in Shropshire.’

The relief flooded through him as he realised they were speaking of Edward Wentworth, and suddenly Colin felt more alive and more hopeful than he had for years. He studied the woman beside him, finding hints of Bradley in her handsome good looks, in her bright confident blue eyes, in her fine upright figure, and her open unaffected manner. Colin’s heart pounded when she smiled in an exact echo of how Bradley had used to smile when particularly pleased.

‘We are soon expecting a visit from another brother of mine. A seafaring brother, whom you will not know.’

‘But we do know him,’ declared Maura. ‘Do we not, Colin? He visited these parts when I was but a girl, and he called at Kellynch Hall once or twice when I was home from school.’

‘Yes,’ said Colin. Maura, of course, knew nothing of the arrangement Bradley had proposed, or of Sir Walter’s refusal to approve of it, as by then she had been away at school again.

Mrs Croft was smiling in delight at Colin. ‘So you are acquainted with Bradley also!’

Maura could not help herself from running on. ‘I believe at one time Captain Wentworth was spoken of as a friend rather than an acquaintance of Colin’s. Though of course he was only a commander at the time, and newly made at that.’

Mrs Croft did not even blink at this awful snobbery.

‘Yes.’ Colin cleared his throat. ‘We were acquainted for a short while before he took command of the _Asp_. I understand, Mrs Croft, that you were in the Indies at that time.’

Upon which he was rescued from further conversation by the Admiral, bless him, who led them all out to the nearby stream in order to launch the boys’ paper boats.

♦

And so of course soon the day dawned on which the Crofts and Captain Wentworth were expected to dinner at the Great House, and Colin would once again see the man he’d fallen in love with eight years before. The man who’d almost kissed him. The man who’d turned his back and walked away.

♦

He’d been dreading the meeting, of course, but Colin discovered he’d also been longing for it – and the longing could be measured by the disappointment he felt when Maura decided that if Charles was still going to dinner to meet the much heralded Captain Wentworth despite the fact that little Charles had fallen and dislocated his collarbone that afternoon, then Maura was entitled to go, too. Colin offered to take responsibility for little Charles’ care, and this was unceremoniously agreed to by Maura, though Charles was decent enough to protest. Under any other circumstances, Colin would have accepted the situation without hesitation. As it was, he felt… bereaved.

On quiet reflection, though, as he sat by little Charles where he lay on a sofa in the drawing room, Colin thought perhaps it was just as well. It would be safer not to meet. If Bradley looked even half as beautiful as he had at twenty–three, then Colin was likely to be hard pressed not to make a fool of himself. And, after all, he had long doubted whether Bradley could really have felt for Colin anything like the urges Colin had felt for him. There had been that one moment in which anything had seemed possible. And there had been his rather unexpected letter – but Bradley might have intended that the arrangement involve nothing more than what was proposed, with two bachelors sharing a home for the sake of convenience just as two spinsters might.

Colin sighed. Kellynch Hall was no longer his home – and never would be again, once it had passed to Laughlin. By then it might be too late to set himself up as a teacher or indeed in any other profession. Without a home of his own, Colin would be dependent on the good will and hospitality of Lady Russell or Maura. Though perhaps the money his mother had left him would be enough on which to live independently, if in seclusion. He doubted his father would do anything for him, especially not now the family’s financial situation had become so difficult.

The future seemed to be an insecure, joyless and lonely place.

♦

The meeting both dreaded and longed for happened quite unexpectedly the next morning. Colin and Maura were sitting in silence over a glum breakfast when suddenly Louisa burst in upon them full of chatter, and then Charles was bustling in and out, collecting up his hunting gear – and then Captain Bradley Wentworth strode in. Beautiful. Just as beautiful as Colin remembered, and looking very fine in his uniform, though he seemed to have grown more serious, even sombre, over the years.

After acknowledging Maura with a slight yet proper bow, Bradley turned to Colin, looked him over, and then burst out, ‘Good God, you’re looking gaunt!’

Louisa laughed. ‘That’s not very gallant, Captain!’

‘I would never have recognised him.’

Charles came back in, asking, ‘What was that?’

‘Captain Wentworth was ungallant enough to say Colin is looking gaunt,’ Louisa explained quite unnecessarily.

‘Don’t give it a thought,’ Charles advised fondly, coming over not to his wife but to Colin, and actually presuming to run a fingertip across one of Colin’s cheekbones. ‘You’re not gaunt, you’re… Good heavens, what is it…? Word beginning with _e_.’

‘Elegant,’ suggested Louisa.

‘Emaciated,’ said Maura.

‘Exquisite,’ offered Bradley, very quietly.

Colin looked at him, trying not to betray how he was brimming over with longing. Bradley was staring hard at the floor.

‘I have it!’ said Charles at last. ‘Ethereal.’

Colin smiled at his brother–in–law, and murmured, ‘Thank you.’

And then he was alone with little Charles again, as the two men headed out for a day’s shooting, with Louisa and Maura following eagerly behind whether welcome or not.

♦

Colin sat before the mirror in his room, examining himself with a critical eye. He was gaunt, it was true. Too pale, with his cheekbones made too prominent by the hollows beneath them. His hair, just as thick and dark as it had ever been, but lacking lustre now. And his slim figure, nothing like the robust frames of naval men. Even if Bradley _had_ once found him attractive, Colin was sure that could never be the case now.

♦

Bradley came by two mornings later to ask how little Charles was progressing.

‘Quite well, I thank you,’ Colin replied. ‘Aren’t you, my dear?’ He tickled a fingertip under little Charles’ chin to provoke a genuine smile from his patient. ‘Though as you can see, Captain Wentworth, we haven’t yet moved him to his own bed. The apothecary advised he should remain undisturbed.’

‘You are in good hands, Master Charles,’ said Bradley.

Colin glanced away, moved by the compliment. But after a moment he collected himself again. ‘Charles and Maura are out visiting, I’m afraid. Perhaps I can tell them you called?’

‘Yes. Of course.’ Bradley cleared his throat, and looked about to bow and take his leave. But just on the brink, he asked instead, in a stilted voice, ‘What were you frowning over when I came in?’

‘Oh.’ Colin looked down at the volume in his hands, one of his fingers acting as a bookmark. ‘I was reading a Shakespeare play to little Charles, but this edition is sadly cut up. Some of the plays aren’t even included, and the ones that are have been shortened, and scoured clean… I wonder that anyone had the heart to even do such a thing.’

‘Ah yes, now I understand. You always loved Shakespeare.’ And for a moment, Bradley was looking at him with fond amusement, just as he had used to when they were friends. But then he seemed to recall himself, and his face turned stony, and his posture stiff. After another moment, he bowed and withdrew with a muttered, ‘Good day to you.’

‘Good day, Captain.’ And that was that. Colin sighed, and got on with reading the badly edited Shakespeare to little Charles.

♦

‘Come, we must have you dance, Colin!’ Charles cried one evening at the Musgroves.

‘But I am perfectly happy to keep playing for you.’

‘Colin plays so very well,’ Louisa declared, delightfully out of breath after her exertions. Of course she would be perfectly happy to continue monopolising Bradley’s attentions.

‘You cannot object to dancing with Colin, Louisa,’ Charles insisted. ‘And he will give us all such pleasure. I remember you moving so elegantly, Colin, I remember it so very well though it is many years ago now. You made such a fine figure on the dance floor.’

‘What shall you have next?’ Colin asked, shuffling through the music on the stand.

‘Leave him be, Charles,’ said Mrs Musgrove, ‘if he does not care to dance.’

‘Well, it is a damned shame!’ Charles cried.

Bradley had been watching all this, quite bemused. Of course he wouldn’t know that the last time Colin had danced, it had been across a lawn through the gentle night air in Bradley’s arms.

‘You will forgive our little family jest, Captain Wentworth,’ Mrs Musgrove continued, ‘but Charles is so fond of Colin, and regards him as such a good friend, we often have cause to remark that he might have married Colin rather than Maura, if he could.’

Colin blushed furiously to have such a thing said to Bradley. He bent his head over the music, though not before he caught Maura glaring mortified daggers at him.

‘Oh, Mama!’ Charles murmured in a happy protest. ‘What nonsense!’

‘Charles shows excellent taste,’ offered Bradley, proving his own good sense and generous manners, though it wasn’t said without a touch of irony, ‘to have chosen such a wife and such a friend.’

Mrs Croft came over, and sat beside Colin on the piano stool. ‘If you will play again, Mr Elliot, I will be delighted to keep you company.’

Colin smiled at her gratefully, and soon all was as it should be. He could even watch Bradley spinning Louisa around the floor and smiling at her giddy laughter, with barely a pang.

A while later, after Mrs Croft had turned a page of music for him, she said quietly, ‘You will find a gift waiting for you at your sister’s house. A gift or a loan, as you see fit. In any case, you will kindly allow us to return something important to where it best belongs.’ And she would not be drawn further on what it might be.

♦

There was a small chest waiting in Colin’s bedroom that night, containing the seven volumes of Shakespeare from the library at Kellynch Hall, with a note from Mrs Croft asking him to accept the offering with all the friendship intended. Colin sank to sit on the side of the bed with one of the beloved books in his hands, knowing this was Bradley’s doing. It proved so much of his thoughtfulness, of his willingness to remember the better aspects of their relationship, that Colin must assume himself forgiven for the cruel ending of it.

He sat there, gazing in the mirror, wondering if gratification or pleasure might have brought a little becoming colour back to his cheeks.

♦

Colin dreamed that night of him and Bradley sinking through the sea together, close enough that he might touch if he reached out a hand, tumbling over and under and over each other through the endless blue. Or perhaps they were falling through the sky, for they could breathe, and Bradley’s eyes shone like a summer’s day, and his smile was warm, his hair golden. He reached – Bradley reached towards him, and Colin lifted a hand as they tumbled round again – and – and Bradley – _Dear_ _God, please, Bradley_ –

But Colin woke, gasping, alone in the cold dark night.

After a moment he lay back, trying to slow his heart. It would not be slowed. His hardness would not be ignored. Colin slipped a hand down to press a palm against the thick column pushing up with stubborn hunger. He rubbed slowly, down and up, imagining Bradley lying over him, Bradley’s hardness matching his own, rubbing against him. Of course he had no real idea of whether two men could love like that, but in those moments he felt it perfectly possible. And then, in his imagination as in the dream, he tumbled over onto Bradley, and Colin was the one rubbing, and Bradley pushed up against him with a wounded happy cry –

A cry echoed by Colin as he spent helplessly, then moaned as he drifted back into a sleep free of troubles or grief.

♦

### Lyme Regis, Dorsetshire

Bradley had a letter from his old friend Captain Harville, who had recently settled in Lyme with his wife and children and their friend Captain Benwick. When Bradley announced he would go to see Harville there, Charles suggested they all make a visit of it. And so a day later a group of them wandered along a stony shore: Bradley and Louisa leading; Charles and Maura slowly following, with pauses in which Charles skimmed stones across the water; and then Colin trailing along behind, trying not to notice how Louisa used the tumult of the wind and the waves as an excuse to grasp Bradley’s arm and push up close to his ear whenever she wanted to say something. Which was often.

Finally, as they walked along beside the harbour, Bradley stopped, and looked around to indicate he had something to say to them all. ‘Harville lives just along here. But I should warn you about Captain Benwick before we enter.’

‘Ooh!’ Louisa cried in delight. ‘Is he scary? Like an old pirate?’

‘No.’

‘Has he lost a limb? Perhaps _two_ limbs?’

Bradley barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. ‘No. He fancies that he’s lost his heart.’

Which made Louisa even more interested, of course. She clung to Bradley’s arm, under the complaisant gaze of her brother. ‘What happened…?’

‘Benwick was going to marry Harville’s sister Phoebe, but she died whilst we were still at sea. He’s been overflowing with sentiment ever since.’

‘The poor dear fellow,’ Louisa murmured.

‘He’ll get over it,’ Bradley harshly asserted.

‘I say!’ Charles protested, while the women gasped.

‘Men don’t love. Not really. Not like women do. Men change their minds readily enough when it suits them.’ Bradley glared down at the stones beneath their feet.

Well. Either that was meant for Colin, if Colin had been right about what almost happened eight years ago. Or it was meant as a warning to Louisa, who had been starting to presume too much. Louisa was angry enough to give Bradley’s arm a little shove before stepping closer to Maura.

‘Bradley…’ Charles said in disbelief.

‘It just doesn’t suit Benwick to get over it yet. So he mopes around like a long wet Sunday afternoon.’

‘Good heavens, Captain Wentworth!’ Maura cried. ‘You’re wrong. Tell him he’s wrong, Charles.’

But Charles groaned, as if caught between a rock and a hard place.

‘Charles!’ She gave him a shove, too.

‘Of course I love, my dear,’ he belatedly tried to reassure his wife, grimacing at Bradley as if to thank him very kindly indeed. ‘I wish your sister were here, Bradley. She’d soon sort you out! And I imagine the Admiral would tell you in no uncertain terms that _he_ loves. Indeed, I have never seen a couple fonder of each other. Except for me and Maura, of course,’ he added a bit too late.

‘Oh really…’ Maura muttered. She took Louisa’s arm, and the two women headed down towards the Cobb.

‘I’ll accompany them,’ Colin said. ‘Charles, you go with the Captain to the Harvilles. We’ll join you there in a while.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, Colin. I’m sure you’ll know what to say to the womenfolk to smooth things over.’

‘At least I know what _not_ to say.’ And Colin murmured an ironic, ‘Well done!’ as he stepped past Bradley – who at least had the grace to appear chagrined.

♦

The mood of the party was bright again by the time they shared supper at the inn where the Uppercross party were staying. Bradley was apologetic enough to make amends to Louisa, who was gracious enough to accept them – and in any case, he and Harville and Charles were in uproarious spirits. Benwick had been, too, for a while, with the three naval men so profoundly happy to be reunited. Mrs Harville was a supremely good–natured woman, and even Maura seemed to be enjoying herself.

As the evening wound on, Colin and Benwick ended up somewhat secluded at the quieter end of the table. They had discovered a shared love of poetry, and were exchanging quotations. Benwick’s tended to be mournful or macabre.

‘ _This living hand, now warm and capable  
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold  
And in the icy silence of the tomb,  
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights  
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood  
So in my veins red life might stream again,  
And thou be conscience–calmed. See, here it is –  
I hold it towards you._’

‘Captain Benwick,’ Colin murmured, shaking his head in bemusement. ‘Perhaps you ought to include a larger allowance of prose in your daily study. Too much poetry may be… unsafe.’

‘You have been very patient with me, Mr Elliot.’ And then the truth came pouring out of him: ‘But you cannot know the depth of my despair. Phoebe would have married me before I went to sea. But I told her… I told her we must wait. For money. Money!’ he cried bitterly.

‘You will rally again. You must. Why, you are younger than me! And worldly matters can no longer affect your choices.’

‘You have no conception of what I have lost.’

‘Yes, I have,’ Colin quietly replied, from the depths of his own heart. And in that moment he became aware of Bradley’s blue gaze intent upon him.

♦

The five of them walked out before breakfast the next morning: Bradley and Louisa, Charles and Maura, and Colin. No past disappointment could stand a chance in the brisk sea breeze. Colin felt braced up by it, blown back into health and hope.

As they climbed one by one up the narrow steps that led from the beach to the harbourside road, a gentleman stood back to let them pass. He was of a good height with a fine strong figure, possessed of the same Irish colouring as Colin and Maura – dark hair, blue eyes, creamy skin – and he was obviously wealthy, judging by the cut of his clothes and the refinement of his accessories. He acknowledged each of them as they reached the top step and passed him by, but it was Colin who caught his eye for some reason. The stranger bowed rather more appreciatively than he needed to, and certainly lower than he had for the ladies.

Charles and Bradley thought this hilarious, and barely waited until they were out of hearing before spluttering into laughter. Then it was, ‘Colin has an admirer!’ all the way back to the inn. Maura found it utterly tiresome, of course – but Colin just smiled, happy to accept the compliment for nothing more nor less than what it was, and he sailed serenely on.

The odd thing was, while they were all eating breakfast they witnessed the stranger leaving the inn – and they could tell by the coat of arms on his coach that he was actually a cousin of the Elliot family. None of them had met him before, but the young man was the Viscount Dalrymple.

♦

Bradley was sitting there in the front room at the inn, looking rather flustered. As if he had something on his mind, but didn’t know quite what to do with it. He glanced across the room at Colin occasionally, as if wanting to talk with him, perhaps ask his advice. Colin could only assume that matters were rapidly progressing between Bradley and Louisa, and of course if Bradley had any last minute concerns or queries he could hardly approach Louisa’s brother. It was all at last going to come to an end, this strange shifting friendship of theirs, which might have meant so much, but in the end meant very little.

Colin watched him as discreetly as he might. The Harvilles came by with their three children to say farewell, which helped him hide in the midst of good–hearted chaos. Bradley ended up bouncing the youngest child on his knee, too distracted to really offer any comfort to her. And now – now, when it was beyond all hope – Colin let himself daydream of what could never be. If the two of them were alone, he imagined that he might walk across to Bradley, holding that warm, slightly fearful blue gaze in his own – and he’d straddle that strong thigh, arch forward to press himself against Bradley from hips to chest – bend his head to meet Bradley’s upraised mouth with his own – and they would kiss, perhaps carefully at first, trembling, but soon deeply, damply – Bradley’s hands on Colin’s shoulders, then sliding gradually down his back, past his waist, shaping themselves to him, exploring him – until at last they pushed down further still to cup –

‘ _Colin!_ Whatever are you thinking of…?’

It was Charles. Colin looked around at his companions, not quite daring to let his gaze stray near Bradley. ‘Nothing,’ he said, as innocently as he could.

‘Come for a walk, then!’

♦

The five of the Uppercross party and Benwick took one last walk out along the Cobb. As they came back, the wind stiffened and began driving spray from the waves up onto the stones – which sloped out to sea, and could feel unsettling enough on a fine day. So they started filing down the steps on the landward side of the Cobb, to walk along the more sheltered surface. Louisa came last, and insisted on jumping from about halfway down into Bradley’s arms, just as she’d already jumped twenty times before from stiles and parapets and chairs and old fallen trees. He caught her easily, and set her down. Turned away, to say something to Charles about their journey home and the worsening weather.

Bradley didn’t realise in time that Louisa had darted back up the steps – higher this time, almost to the top. ‘Catch me!’

‘Louisa!’ Colin cried.

Bradley pushed back around – almost got there in time – but he was half a moment too late, and in her enthusiasm she had almost dived rather than jumped –

Louisa brushed past Bradley’s outstretched fingers – she crumpled to the stones, her head hitting hard – and then she was still.

The shock froze them all – but then Bradley was frantically kneeling by her to gently turn her over, to support her in his arms.

Maura screamed, and collapsed into Charles’ arms, while he cried out his sister’s name. Benwick seemed stunned at the sight, perhaps driven back into dark thoughts of his lifeless Phoebe. ‘She is dead!’ Maura was wailing. ‘She is dead!’

Colin knelt by Louisa, bent over her, listened for her breath and her heartbeat. ‘No, she lives,’ he declared.

‘What shall I do?’ asked Bradley in despair. Their gazes met across Louisa, closer than they’d been in all these years. Bradley needed him, was looking to Colin for help. ‘Oh God, her father and mother!’ he cried.

‘We need a surgeon,’ Colin said.

‘Yes.’ Bradley was carefully but firmly handing Louisa over to Colin’s care, intending to go himself. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘No – Benwick! Benwick will know where to go!’

‘Of course. James – my friend – please. Hurry!’ And at Bradley’s heartfelt plea, Benwick at last stirred himself, and set off at a run.

Maura was simply weeping now, which was a little easier to handle. Charles came closer, with Maura leaning heavily on his arm. ‘Colin. What should we do?’

They were all looking to him. ‘Carry her to the Harvilles’ house,’ he said.

‘Yes!’ said Bradley, beginning to lift her.

‘Gently!’ Colin cried.

♦

Mrs Harville was everything they could wish for, of course. She had Bradley carry Louisa up to her own bed, and let Colin assist her in settling Louisa – until he, too, must be banished. The surgeon arrived. Benwick began making pots of tea. Charles was comforting Maura. A neighbour had already whisked away the Harville children. Colin wandered back down towards the front room, having run out of useful things to do and yet remaining too anxious to settle.

‘A message must be taken to Uppercross immediately,’ Bradley was saying in a low voice to Harville. Their heads were bent close together as if they wanted to be discreet, but Colin had nowhere else to go in the Harvilles’ small home, so he hovered, not feeling very bad about overhearing them.

‘Yes. Two of you should go, and two should stay. Whoever stays is most welcome to share our home – along with Miss Musgrove of course.’

‘You are too good, John.’

‘My friend, you must know that your concerns are ours. Bradley, tell me what’s on your mind.’

‘Charles or I must go to Uppercross.’

‘Colin –’

‘– cannot drive the curricle. In any case, he should stay to help take care of Louisa. There’s no one more capable than Colin. And he will be no burden to you. Rather the opposite.’

‘Then Mr and Mrs Musgrove must be the ones to return to Uppercross.’

‘But Charles dearly wants to stay with his sister.’

‘Then –’ Harville stalled, as confounded by the logic as Bradley was.

Maura must be accompanied by either her husband or her brother. The unvoiced concern was that she would make a rather less useful nurse than Colin. The comparison wasn’t welcome to Colin, but the compliment was. _There’s no one more capable,_ Bradley had said, with direct and simple warmth.

‘Then,’ Harville finally concluded, ‘you must declare your interest. You must make it clear that you have a stronger claim than even a brother has, to remain by her side.’

Bradley stared at him, apparently not comprehending.

‘I’m sorry. No doubt you have had good reason for delaying the voicing of your intentions. But events have overtaken you.’

‘Are you saying…’ Bradley was struggling. ‘Are you saying that… you believe… I have intentions towards Miss Musgrove?’

‘Do you not?’ Harville lightly replied. ‘It seems to be understood. Indeed, from one or two things that Mr Musgrove has said –’ He stalled again, belatedly realising that Bradley really was genuinely shocked by all this. ‘I am sorry, my friend,’ Harville repeated gently. ‘Can you really not have known? I think you are in too deep. I think it has become a matter of honour.’

Bradley was paler than even Louisa had been. ‘I see,’ he muttered. ‘I see.’ After a long moment passed, he declared, ‘Well, then. I will go to Uppercross. And I will take… I will take Mr Elliot. But I cannot… I cannot be…’

‘My dear friend…’

Bradley seemed to rally himself. ‘If I deprive you of Colin, then at least I can also rescue you from Mrs Musgrove. She can accompany him.’

‘Don’t you mean –’

‘Yes. Of course. He can accompany her.’ And Bradley strode off, somehow looking both utterly fearsome and deathly ill.

Moments later Colin heard Maura letting out a wail. ‘Why should I go away? I am Louisa’s closest family! Really, it is too unkind!’

But Bradley carried the day.

♦

They drove through the night, Bradley keeping the horses to a walk until the moon rose. Maura had cried herself out, and was asleep on Colin’s shoulder. Every now and then Bradley glanced across at Colin, as if he couldn’t help himself. He seemed torn apart. Eventually he said, ‘If only…’

‘Yes,’ said Colin, though he wasn’t entirely sure to what he was agreeing.

‘Colin… I regret that…’

It was the first time Bradley had directly addressed him by name for eight years. ‘Yes,’ Colin whispered.

Bradley’s face set hard and bitter. ‘Damned foolish. _Damned_ foolish!’

♦

Once they got to Uppercross, it was immediately clear that Maura was glad to be home again. The Great House roused from sleep into an uproar within moments. Soon Bradley was seated on a fresh horse in the courtyard, waiting to ride back to Lyme with Louisa’s father. Colin watched him from a window, yearning. Knowing full well that he might never see Bradley again. Knowing that if they did ever meet, it could not be as two single unencumbered men, able to make their own choices. Or, no, it was more ironic than that – for Colin had been unable to choose what he liked eight years ago, and now Bradley was the one deprived of the power of choice.

Bradley looked fine – the naval man looked so very fine in his dark uniform, with the brass buttons and his golden hair alike catching glints from the torches. His face sombre yet brave. ‘Farewell,’ Colin whispered. ‘Fare well, Bradley…’

And for a moment, it was as if Bradley had heard him. He looked across, directly at Colin, and stared at him hard – as if also conscious that this might be their final goodbye. Perhaps there was the barest flicker of an answering yearning in those fierce blue eyes.

Colin lifted his hand, rested the fingertips against the windowpane…

Bradley nodded at him, once, curtly. Then he tapped his heels against his mount’s sides, and he was gone.

♦

### Bath, Somersetshire

Charles had soon returned to Uppercross to tell them that Louisa would live, for which Colin was deeply thankful. Though it was a gratitude tinged with selfish sadness, as he now had no further excuse for delaying his journey to Bath to join Sir Walter and Laughlin in their new home.

♦

The Elliots had taken a fine townhouse in Camden Place which was furnished in elegant austerity. Colin could admire the beauty of it, but there was no comfort to be had there.

Sir Walter announced, ‘I am pleased to have you here with us, Colin.’

‘Thank you, father,’ he replied, rather surprised.

‘You will make a fourth at dinner when the Viscount Dalrymple attends us. That must be deemed an advantage.’

Colin couldn’t help but smile wryly. Only his father could deliver such a meaningless compliment and a piece of snobbery in one brief statement. ‘So you have become acquainted with our cousin? That is good news. Actually, we saw him at Lyme.’

‘You might have,’ Laughlin acknowledged.

‘We did.’

‘I don’t _know_ , do I? You _might_ have.’

Colin let the matter be, and only said, ‘I will be glad to meet him.’

‘Of course you will. He is a _viscount_ …’ murmured Laughlin, as if this were the very pinnacle of achievement.

Colin just laughed. Some things didn’t change.

♦

Soon after dinner that night, the butler announced the viscount, and he entered the drawing room with a gracious smile. Somehow he managed to be better dressed than Sir Walter and Laughlin put together, and yet elegant with it; he was far more to Colin’s taste. ‘Good evening, Sir Walter. Mr Elliot,’ he was smoothly saying. ‘I do hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but I was passing by, and –’

‘Come in, Lord Dalrymple, come in,’ Sir Walter was saying, rising to his feet with alacrity. ‘Family need not stand on ceremony. Indeed, they _must_ not.’

The Viscount Dalrymple had greeted Sir Walter and Laughlin, and now at last turned towards Colin. He gave a start of recognition, and then his gracious smile became delighted. Colin smiled back at him, unable to help himself.

Sir Walter was saying, ‘You do not know, my lord, my younger son Colin.’

‘Oh, but we have had a glimpse of each other, Sir Walter, on the seashore, down at Lyme.’

They were grinning at each other now, due to some strange convergence of chance, recognition, attractiveness, fellow feeling. _Colin has an admirer!_ It was all quite silly, really, in a wonderful kind of way.

But then the viscount sobered a little, and said, ‘I learnt of the terrible accident there, after I had left. The young lady was one of your party, was she not? Is she…?’

‘She is making a good recovery, I believe, but slowly.’

‘I am glad. It must have been deeply distressing.’

‘Thank you,’ said Colin, touched at anyone in this household being at all concerned for him. ‘Yes.’

Sir Walter eventually asked, ‘Which young lady, pray?’

‘Miss Musgrove, father. Louisa.’

‘Oh. The farmer’s daughter.’

The Viscount Dalrymple blinked, but that was enough for Colin. He turned away to smother a laugh, and decided they were going to become great friends.

♦

Colin was soon in the habit of escorting Lady Russell to the Pump Room each morning. They promenaded around the vast hall, arm in arm, conversing together when Lady Russell wasn’t greeting her many acquaintances. She had many good things to say about the Viscount Dalrymple: about his appreciation of the ties of blood and connection, his high esteem for Sir Walter, his excellent manners, his correct opinions, his wide knowledge of the world…

‘But what is he really _like_?’ Colin eventually asked.

‘Is not that enough? He seems quite perfect!’

‘He does indeed!’

Lady Russell flashed a glance at him. ‘My dear friend, you cannot tell me that you don’t find him charming.’

‘No. No, he is unutterably charming.’

‘Well, then…?’

‘It does occur to me that someone who can manage to charm my father… _and_ my brother… and _you_ , Lady Russell… and _me_ … is almost too perfect to be true.’

‘Why shouldn’t all the best qualities unite in a young peer of the realm?’

Colin grinned wryly at her. ‘Why not, indeed?’ Though he knew she was more sincere than not. But he soon found friends of his own to greet: Colin saw Admiral and Mrs Croft across the room, and dashed over to grasp their welcoming hands. ‘Oh, I am so pleased to see _you_ here!’

‘We are come to improve the Admiral’s health,’ Mrs Croft announced.

‘Why, Admiral, I am sorry to hear it. What is the problem?’

‘Dry land, my young friend, dry land. It don’t agree with me legs. So I’ve come to take the waters!’

♦

‘I have a proposal for you,’ the Viscount Dalrymple quietly announced. He and Colin were sitting on a sofa by the fire at Camden Place, while Sir Walter, Laughlin, Lady Russell and a friend of the latter played cards at a table near the front windows.

‘Do you indeed?’ Colin smiled, though it wasn’t the kind of uninhibited gesture the viscount used to provoke in him.

‘Yes. Though I am being very presumptuous.’

‘Perhaps that will count in your favour.’

The viscount’s smile twisted a little, wryly, enticingly, and his dark blue eyes settled very directly on Colin. A delightful frisson went through Colin as he returned that enigmatic gaze. As he wondered for the hundredth time if the viscount were a man with tastes and urges such as Colin himself had.

‘What is your proposal?’ Colin asked.

‘Don’t be offended. But I am in need of a companion, a secretary, someone who can help me manage my estates in Ireland. You seem to me to be entirely fit for all those roles. And you come highly recommended.’

‘Good heavens, by whom?’

‘Your friend Lady Russell. She told me a little of all you did for the Kellynch estate.’

Colin grimaced. ‘And you see how well that has turned out.’

‘The failure is not your fault. As I understand matters, it is to your credit that the estate remained in your family’s hands for as long as it did.’

Colin watched him for a long moment. This was not such a strange notion that the viscount was proposing: any poor relation, any second son would be gratified, and Colin himself was relieved. It would mean, before anything, that he had not only a home but a useful occupation. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if there were more to it than that. If his cousin thought to become his particular friend. _More_ than his friend. If there had indeed been that mutual recognition between them, or if it had been mere imagination on his part. And if so, would it be an obligation, an expectation on the viscount’s part – or an arrangement that Colin might eventually choose freely? There was some part of him that loved Bradley deeply, and always would. Yet Colin was realistic enough to know that there were only so many more years of loneliness he could bear, if there were a reasonable answer to some of his urges waiting beside him.

But beyond that, and complicating everything – what concerned Colin was that the Viscount Dalrymple remained unknowable. Perhaps he was simply a very private person, or very discreet – and perhaps, under the circumstances, that was a good thing – but somehow Colin sensed that he would never be allowed to see through to the heart of the man.

‘My lord –’

‘Aidan.’

‘Thank you.’ He had just been accorded a real privilege. ‘Aidan –’

‘Say yes.’

‘If you would let me consider the matter…’

‘Colin, my cousin, my _very_ dear friend. Say yes.’

‘I cannot. Not yet.’

‘Then soon.’

Colin smiled at him, though tentatively. ‘Thank you. I am so very grateful for your generous offer.’

‘Then say yes.’

‘I will give you my answer soon.’

♦

Colin considered his own image reflected back from the mirror in his bedroom. The house at Camden Place was full of mirrors, though Colin had managed to banish all but one from his own room. He looked into it carefully, considering. He’d put on a little weight, he thought. He seemed a little healthier now, and while he was still slim, surely Bradley would not now call him gaunt. Not that Bradley was ever likely to do something so familiar again. Colin sighed.

He had loved. He had genuinely loved Bradley, and did so still. But that must be forgot. They would almost be brothers once Bradley married Louisa. They must be friends, if they could – though it would never be like the easy fraternity Colin shared with Charles. They must be friends as best they could, if they ever met again.

For Colin must make his own life now. Bradley could not create a new life for him, as he had once proposed. Sir Walter and Laughlin no longer needed Colin, and would no doubt say they never had. Colin must make his own way.

And he supposed that becoming Aidan’s companion and secretary was the best way to do that. And yet… he felt unsure of Aidan. The Viscount Dalrymple. Maybe it was that Aidan quite simply wasn’t Bradley. Maybe that’s all it was. Or maybe it was the contrast between Aidan’s perfect composure with the confident ease of the Crofts and the Wentworths, the enthusiastic energy of the Musgroves. Though perhaps Colin’s companionship would serve to soften Aidan’s manner a little, brighten his temperament. If only Colin could feel he would be safe to trust the man – with his livelihood, his reputation, perhaps even his heart…

Trust. Maybe that would come in time. Maybe all that was wanting was a little courage and resolution on Colin’s part. He should take these wonderful naval men as his model, and spread a little more sail.

Yes.

♦

Colin was strolling through the centre of Bath with Admiral Croft when the whole world shifted. ‘Do you remember my brother–in–law Bradley Wentworth?’ the Admiral asked.

‘Yes,’ said Colin.

‘Well, we thought he was to marry Louisa Musgrove. He was courting her week after week. The only wonder was, what were they waiting for? Till the business at Lyme happened – then it was clear that they must wait till her brain was set to rights. How d’ye do?’ the Admiral said to a passing naval acquaintance.

Colin barely managed to let a moment go by before pressing the Admiral to continue. ‘And yet…?’ he prompted, trying to sound as if he were merely making conversation.

‘And yet now the matter has taken the strangest turn of all. Bradley has removed to Shropshire, and the young lady, instead of being to marry _him_ , is to marry James Benwick. You know James Benwick.’

After a moment Colin found that he had stopped in the middle of the pavement – and he hovered there, uncertain of up or down. Then he forced himself to take a step, to stroll on at the Admiral’s side. ‘I am a little acquainted with Captain Benwick, yes.’

‘Well, she is to marry him.’

‘I confess that I am amazed!’

‘Aye, it is certainly unforeseen. But it’s true. We have it in a letter from Bradley himself.’

‘But their minds are so dissimilar!’

Of course the Admiral had already had time to assimilate this strange news, and he and Mrs Croft would have managed to explain it to each other. ‘Yes, but they were thrown together several weeks, and the lovely Miss Musgrove, just recovering from illness, would be in an interesting state, would she not?’ The Admiral’s eyes twinkled at Colin, as if suggesting that neither of them could have been immune to her charms under such circumstances.

Colin smiled at him fondly, starting to recover from the shock. ‘No doubt Louisa will learn to be as enthusiastic about Mr Keats and Lord Byron as she used to be about ball gowns and dancing.’

‘I suspect that is learnt already.’

‘Of course! They fell in love over poetry!’ And the two of them laughed together at how very obvious and natural this strangeness now seemed.

‘So,’ the Admiral continued as they turned into Milsom Street, ‘Bradley is unshackled and free.’

And the ground shifted under Colin’s feet once more. He found, this time, that he had slipped his arm through the Admiral’s for support, just as Mrs Croft might have. The Admiral didn’t seem at all fazed by this, but walked steadily on. After a while, Colin asked, ‘Is he bitter?’

‘Not at all, not at all. His letter is sanguine. There is barely an oath from beginning to end.’

Colin smiled at the man, wondering how many oaths a naval man would usually fit into a letter.

‘You would not guess from his way of writing that he had ever thought of Miss Musgrove for himself. Poor Bradley! Now he must begin all over again with somebody else.’

♦

The rain was pelting down. Aidan had left Colin sheltering in an alcoved doorway with the viscount’s shopping, and gone to find an umbrella or a carriage. Colin stared out sightlessly at the greyness of a Bath street in the rain, wondering yet again about his future. He had finally delivered his answer to Aidan – he had said, ‘I thank you, but no. I can’t.’ And Aidan had smiled graciously, and had heard it as _yes_. The viscount had been acting on that assumption ever since.

What he needed – What Colin needed was –

Captain Bradley Wentworth walked by under a huge dark umbrella, his expression utterly determined, as if he would not let a little rain get in his way.

‘Bradley –’ Colin whispered.

It was enough. Bradley glanced over – saw him – started – and came to stand before him, his umbrella settling back behind his shoulders, shutting out the world. ‘Colin,’ he murmured.

They looked at each other, watched each other carefully, considered each other – free to do so at last. Bradley seemed overly serious, but a smile grew irresistibly across Colin’s face. ‘Good morning,’ he said warmly, hoping that would be the first of many greetings.

Which was a misjudgement, as it seemed to awaken the proprieties in Bradley. ‘Your family –’

‘Yes?’

‘They’re in health?’

‘They are. Thank you.’

‘And you.’ A searching gaze ran over Colin’s face. ‘You’re in health.’

It wasn’t a question, but Colin replied, ‘I am very well indeed, thank you. Bradley –’

‘Colin…’

But it wasn’t Bradley speaking. It was Aidan.

Bradley took a step back, turned so that his umbrella no longer hid them. It was obvious that he immediately recognised the viscount from Lyme. _Colin has an admirer!_ A dark look passed over Bradley’s face, and he shot Colin a pained glance.

‘I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Are you ready? Shall we set off?’ Gentle, familiar tones – staking his claim. Aidan was now brandishing an umbrella, though it wasn’t so large or sturdy as Bradley’s.

The trouble was, everything about Aidan – his manner, his tone, his look – declared that Colin had answered him _yes_. Yes, to _everything_. And that Aidan had already taken complacent possession.

Bradley’s eyes flashed in furious jealousy, and then he stepped back again. Turned away. ‘Good day to you.’ He walked away.

‘Good day, Captain,’ Colin replied, though it was already too late and Bradley wouldn’t have heard him.

‘Colin,’ Aidan said again, with an air of mild reproach, though his smile said that all was already forgiven.

And Colin helped Aidan collect up his shopping, and then mutely followed along at his side. For now, at least, there was nothing else to do.

♦

Colin took his chance as people started gathering for a concert at the Assembly Rooms. He was standing in the foyer with Lady Russell, Sir Walter, Laughlin and Aidan, when he saw Bradley come in alone. Colin immediately moved to intercept him, though it was impolite of him to have walked away in the middle of one of his father’s monologues. ‘How d’ye do, Captain?’

‘Well, thank you, Mr Elliot.’

‘You have come for the concert?’

‘No, I came for a lecture on navigation. Am I in the wrong place?’

Colin grinned. And was pleased to see that when Bradley made a proper bow to Colin’s family, they acknowledged him – no matter how slightly and belatedly, they still acknowledged him.

Bradley seemed to take heart. ‘I’ve hardly seen you since that wretched day in Lyme. Have you been all right? It was a distressing time.’

‘There was some distress,’ Colin lightly replied. ‘I am happier now.’

‘When you had the presence of mind to send Benwick for a surgeon, I bet you had little idea of the consequences.’

‘No, but I hope it will be a very happy match.’

‘I, too, wish them luck.’ Bradley sighed, and looked away. ‘But for Benwick to have suddenly become so deeply attached to her… Phoebe Harville was a wonderful woman. Such a devotion should not be so soon forgotten.’

‘Bradley –’

‘Colin.’ But once more it was Aidan smoothly interrupting. Resting his hand lightly on Colin’s arm. Claiming him back. ‘Come, we are about to go in.’

And then Lady Russell was there, too, standing by the Viscount Dalrymple, and making it clear where she thought Colin’s future should lead.

‘I will join you in there,’ Colin tried.

‘But your father insists,’ said Aidan.

‘Don’t let me delay you,’ Bradley stiffly said. ‘Good evening.’ He made a bow, and walked away. Back towards the main doors.

‘Captain!’ Colin cried, inappropriately. ‘Can you be leaving already?’

Bradley was polite enough to half–turn and nod a farewell, but then he was gone. And Colin remained in Aidan’s possession. He was beginning to see how assumptions could become fact.

♦

Not long after, Mr and Mrs Musgrove arrived in Bath to buy wedding clothes for Louisa, bringing with them Charles and Maura, and Captain Harville. The party were staying at the White Hart. Colin was happy to be invited there for the day, partly because he was running out of patience with his father and brother and cousin, and partly because… because he had to admit it had occurred to him that Captain Wentworth must soon call upon Captain Harville. He sat happily with Mrs Musgrove and Maura, considering a hundred variations of ivory and yellow ribbons for Louisa’s hair.

And when Charles returned from his morning walk, he brought Harville and Bradley back with him. Bless him. ‘Look who I found, Mama.’

‘Captain Wentworth! How splendid!’

Colin smiled at Mrs Musgrove’s fond welcome, trying not to dwell on the contrast between that and his own family’s slight acknowledgement of Bradley at the concert. Despite Colin’s own warm greeting, however, Bradley kept his distance. Colin bided his time.

Harville and Bradley talked quietly together for a while near the far window, and then Bradley sat down at the writing desk, began drafting a letter. When it seemed that the Musgroves were all happy enough to be left talking about wedding arrangements, Colin joined Harville, who seemed glad of the company. ‘Do you see this?’ he asked, showing Colin a miniature painting he held in his palm. ‘Do you see who it is?’

‘Yes. Captain Benwick.’ It was a flattering portrait, and it captured the truth of Benwick’s eager heart.

‘He had it done at the Cape, for my poor sister. And now he wants it reset for Louisa. It’s too much for me, I confess. So _he_ undertakes the task,’ Harville explained, gesturing towards Bradley. ‘He is writing instructions for the frame–makers now. Poor Phoebe. She would not have forgotten James so soon.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Colin replied. ‘I’m sorry for your pain, and I am so very sorry for the loss you’ve all suffered. But I confess I cannot be sorry for Captain Benwick and Louisa. They deserve a share of happiness, do they not?’

‘Of course,’ Harville agreed with a sigh. ‘You are right. But perhaps our friend is also right when he declares that men don’t love. Not like women do, he says. Not so constantly.’

‘But you know he is wrong about that!’ Colin protested. ‘You yourself disprove him. You and your dear wife.’

‘Yes,’ Harville acknowledged. ‘But perhaps I don’t realise how uncommon that is.’

‘It’s not uncommon. Only think of our acquaintance. Admiral Croft. Mr Musgrove. Even,’ Colin added in a low tone, with a wry smile, ‘Mr Charles Musgrove.’

Harville returned his smile, and tactfully headed off on a different tack. ‘When shall we see you find a young woman to love and marry, Mr Elliot? That would bring your friends such joy.’

‘Oh,’ he lightly replied, ‘I think that I shall never marry. But that does not mean I do not love,’ he continued more seriously. ‘Some men, even when there is no hope, remain true. I do not say that Captain Benwick was wrong to turn to another, though it gives you pain – and I wish him and Louisa every happiness. But some men remain true, past all rhyme or reason.’

A crash made them turn around, to discover that Bradley had dropped the pounce pot on the wooden floor.

‘Have you finished the letter?’ Harville asked.

‘Not quite. A few lines more.’

Harville turned back to Colin. ‘You think our friend,’ he asked quietly, tipping a nod towards Bradley, ‘is too cynical, then?’

Colin sighed. ‘Well, perhaps he has cause.’

They were silent, then, until at last Bradley briskly announced, ‘Harville, if you’re ready, I’m at your service.’

And the two captains said their farewells and left, Harville with a fond smile for Colin, and Bradley as distant as he’d been since he first came in. Colin lingered alone by the window for a few moments more.

Then suddenly Bradley was back, and striding over to the writing desk. ‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Musgrove, I have left my umbrella.’ But as he leant over to reach it, he also slid a letter out from under a pile of papers on the desk – and he cast a significant glance at Colin.

‘Good day, Captain Wentworth,’ Mrs Musgrove said as he strode back out again.

‘Good day, ma’am,’ sounded from the corridor.

Colin stepped closer to the desk. He cast a surreptitious glance at the Musgroves, but they were engrossed in wedding plans and each other. Colin looked down at the letter, which was inscribed _C.E._ He sank down to the chair, and unfolded it with trembling hands.

>   
> _I can listen no longer in silence. You have pierced my soul. Of course men love – truly and constantly – as I have loved you, though my bitterness and resentment, and lately my jealousy, made me forget it. Men love – as you have loved. I see that now. If you can forgive me, if we can make a life together, then tell me as soon as you can. You will find a way – a smile, a look, a glance will be enough now that I can finally see the truth. A smile, and you will make me so very much happier than I have any right to be._
> 
>  _B.W._

‘Colin! Is something the matter?’ Charles, as he was shrugging on his coat.

‘Oh, Colin, how pale you are!’ Mrs Musgrove.

‘I do feel a little – Fresh air. If I may, Mrs Musgrove. I will excuse myself and take some air.’

‘By all means, my dear. Charles, you must walk with Colin. Take a turn about the park.’

‘But I – Of course. Come on, then.’

And so Colin was bustled down the stairs by his well–meaning brother–in–law. ‘Not the park,’ Colin insisted, as they emerged into sudden sunshine. ‘The frame–makers. Do you know where Captain Harville was going? The frame–makers.’

‘Yes, of course. Just off Milsom Street. But, look – are you sure? The park might serve you better. Though I was just heading for the gun–smith down past the frame–makers, so it would suit me to take you that way, I have to admit.’

‘Yes. The frame–makers.’

Except that Bradley was there, _right there_ , standing on the pavement as if stranded, at a loss. Gazing at Colin with a mute plea.

Colin tried to force his mouth into a smile, and probably managed little better than a grimace. Apparently it was enough, though, for Bradley seemed to sag in relief.

‘Which way are you going, Bradley?’ Charles asked.

‘I hardly know.’

‘Well, look, you wouldn’t walk Colin about a bit, would you? Needs some fresh air, he’s rather done for this morning – and I really want to get to the gun–smith before he sends off this capital double–barrel he’s been storing – and –’

‘I can walk with him, Charles.’

‘Much obliged. Good day to you both.’ And dear Charles bustled off.

And Colin and Bradley were alone amidst the crowds of Bath. Seeing each other clearly for the first time in eight years.

‘I tried to forget you,’ Bradley said at last, voice hoarse. ‘I thought I had.’

‘It was the same for me.’

Then Bradley turned in beside Colin, and they walked away together. They headed down Milsom Street, and down further still through the streets, until they were by the river, and then they walked along the banks until at last they were winding through woodland, and there was a perfect private sunlit stretch of grasses in which Colin stopped. And he turned towards Bradley. They considered each other for a while.

Colin said, ‘Eight years ago, you almost kissed me, did you not?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then kiss me now.’

Bradley looked at him, and whispered, ‘I hardly dare.’ But then at last the naval man stepped bravely forward, and he rested one hand on Colin’s arm, then cupped Colin’s face with the other, rubbing a thumbpad across his cheekbone. Colin heard again: _Exquisite_. And Bradley leant in close, and met Colin’s mouth with his own.

It was magic, the brush of lips against lips. The tentative meeting of sensitive flesh. They were both unpractised, that was evident, but they were both so very hungry for it. Soon sensation swept them into a deeper, more passionate mouthing, and their hands clutched each at the other.

But then eventually Bradley slowed again, and gently broke away. Looked upon Colin with wryness and amusement and longing.

‘Bradley –’

But Bradley abruptly became serious, and asked, ‘Your cousin?’

Colin shook his head. ‘I told him _no_ , but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘Of course he didn’t.’ Bradley spread his hand against Colin’s cheek, fingertips pushing into his hair and that thumbpad finding the cheekbone again. ‘Who would?’

‘ _You_ did,’ Colin observed with a laugh.

‘I was a fool. Tell me. Within two years I was made captain, I had prize money, I was _someone_. If I had come back and asked again –?’

‘I would have said _yes_.’

‘Then I was a fool twice over.’

‘I’ve been a fool, too,’ Colin said.

‘Do you say now that you were wrong to refuse me?’ Bradley asked it lightly, as if he had no real opinion on the matter.

‘No…’ Colin slowly replied. ‘I wasn’t a fool at nineteen. I wasn’t yet of age, and I listened to the advice of my father and my mother’s closest friend. That wasn’t wrong. And, Bradley –’ He looked at him with earnest sorrow. ‘You must have thought about this. What we’re doing. What the law would do to us if it chose. How anyone could destroy us with a word. I wasn’t a fool at nineteen not to come to you and leave us exposed to my father’s wrath. I _was_ a fool not to come find you on my twenty–first birthday, when my life became my own. But I thought you couldn’t have forgiven me.’

Bradley grimaced. ‘And I hadn’t. But that was my fault and not yours, and no doubt I could have been made to see the truth, even then.’ He left a pause, and then asked in a low but determined tone, ‘Will your cousin cause trouble for us?’

Colin shook his head, though he admitted, ‘I don’t know. I think, at least… that he wouldn’t go to the law.’

‘Then I can handle him,’ the naval man declared. He took Colin’s hand in his, and then sank to sit cross–legged on the grass, bringing Colin down with him to sit by his side.

Colin sat there with his legs curled under him, staring down at how their hands fitted together, how their fingers interwove. The sun blessed them, and Colin felt so unutterably contented.

‘I have purchased a home for us,’ Bradley announced. ‘An old farmhouse that has been fitted up. It is a pleasant place, though it still needs some work. It is secluded, with an attractive aspect looking over a small river valley, and there are the most amazing old trees.’

‘It sounds perfect,’ Colin whispered. ‘Where is it? Where will we live?’

‘Oswestry, in Shropshire.’ He shrugged a little apologetically. ‘I want to be near Edward. I will be sorry to be so far from Sophia – I love her dearly, and the Admiral is the finest fellow –’

‘I love them, too.’

Bradley smiled at him. ‘And they you, I have been assured. But Edward knows me. He knows everything about me. Even how I have felt about you. He is the only other person in the world –’

‘Then of course we must be near him.’

‘And his wife Emily is a lovely young woman, both sweet and direct. I can honestly say now that we three Wentworths have been lucky in our choices. I’m sure Emily will be a good friend to us, though of course I have left it to Edward to decide how much to tell her about me, and when, if at all.’

‘How soon can we go there?’ Colin asked.

‘How soon can you be ready to leave your family home?’

‘This very moment.’

♦

### Oswestry, Shropshire

They left Bradley’s curricle and horses at the coach house in town for the ostler’s care, and walked to their new home. It was indeed charming, both the house and the country that surrounded it, but Colin was too nervous, too excited to pay much heed to anything other than the man beside him. They walked up the path towards the front door, and Bradley let them in. Closed the door behind them, and locked it. Obviously had to gather himself before he could raise his eyes to meet Colin’s.

Colin wasn’t just blushing – he knew he was suffused with blood, aflame with long–denied need. ‘Bradley –’ he whispered.

And Bradley, instead of showing him into the drawing room, or conducting a tour, gestured wordlessly towards the staircase that ran up from the hall.

Colin’s breathing hitched, and he started climbing, growing dizzy with hunger, glancing back as Bradley followed close behind – Colin’s hand on the railing, but that wasn’t enough to save him – he was barely two–thirds of the way up when he tripped, looking back around at Bradley – so he twisted around further, landed on his back –

And Bradley followed him down, mouth unerringly seeking Colin’s in a frantic kiss – and Colin tried to work his way further up the stairs on his elbows and rear and feet, at least tried to reach the landing – but Bradley’s hand was on him, running hard from his waist down to his hip, and Colin surrendered with a groan –

That hand moulding itself to him through his trousers, and Colin groaned again, bucked up against the most perfect pressure – Bradley beside him on a knee and an elbow, leaning over him – then suddenly his own hardness pushing against Colin’s thigh –

And that was enough, God help him, that was enough – _‘Bradley!’_ he cried, pushing up against this man, his love, the seed pulsing out of him in long wonderful waves –

A sob wrenching from Bradley’s very soul, and he pressed in closer, thrust hard up against Colin’s thigh, and then shook as his own completion took him. ‘Colin… God damn it, _Colin_ …’

♦

They clung to each other until the immediacy of it passed, and then they picked each other up, helped each other to the top of the stairs, and Bradley led Colin into the bedroom they would share. Closed the door behind them. Took Colin deep into his arms, and tucked his head in close to murmur in Colin’s ear, ‘Colin, I love you, God forgive me, I love you, and we must never part again.’

‘Never,’ Colin averred. And they kissed, a solemn involving kiss, as if that was their vow to each other.

Soon their kiss turned hungry again, though, if not quite as desperate as it had been on the staircase. Bradley’s hands slid up Colin’s chest, under his coat to push it back off his shoulders – and then Colin was fumbling at the brass buttons of Bradley’s naval coat, only getting one undone before he must put his arms back to let his own coat fall to the floor – working on another of the heavy buttons while Bradley worked likewise on Colin’s waistcoat, getting in each other’s way, and kissing forever kissing.

Bradley pulled away a little as those strong fingers went to work on the knot of Colin’s cravat, trembling too hard to be deft. ‘I _need_ …’ said Bradley.

‘I know. Let me do it.’

Then they were each undressing themselves. Still watching each other, though, and still clumsy, so perhaps it saved them no time at all. In his shirt sleeves at last, Bradley sat on the end of the bed, reached down to wrestle with his boots. Colin sat beside him to do the same – and when he surfaced again, Bradley was grabbing at him, hauling him close, mouthing at his throat, pushing him back onto the bed.

‘No…’ Colin protested. ‘No…’ They were still in their shirts and trousers and stockings and underclothes.

‘Colin, please…’

‘I want… you’ll think me immodest – but I want you, just _you_ , nothing covering you but your skin.’

Bradley groaned, and pulled away, shifted up further on the bed to wrest off his shirt – tearing it a little in his haste – to fumble his trousers undone and push them down.

Colin blushed, and hurried to do the same. And then at last, at last, he had a glimpse of pale golden skin, a scattering of hair across a strong chest, Bradley’s eager manhood rising hard out of dark gold curls – and then they were in each other’s arms, skin against skin, both of them groaning at the delicious sensations of it, shifting against each other, not urgent for now but simply wanting to feel, and to feel _more_ – Bradley’s hands running firm down his back, bringing Colin close, and closer still.

And Colin found it was true, that two men _could_ love each other by matching hardness to hardness, rubbing and thrusting together, and the pleasure of it felt almost like delirium – Colin was falling back – they had been on their sides, up on their elbows, holding each other, pressing and shifting against each other, but now Colin was falling back, bringing Bradley with him, wanting one of them moving over the other, he didn’t mind which –

But Bradley minded. ‘Please,’ he murmured brokenly. ‘Please, Colin…’ As he pulled away and lay on his back, lifting his arms to beg, to encourage his love.

Colin shifted over, and lay on him, Bradley’s thighs parting to welcome him. ‘Bradley, my darling,’ he whispered.

‘Please. I have been empty without you. A hollow shell. Fill me. Fill me with _you_.’

And Colin gasped out a breath as he realised what his love required, and he was scared of what he must do, of the hurt it would cause, but he wanted it, too – dear God, _he wanted it_.

His hands shaking, all of him shaking, and Bradley, too, but they managed to find the right position, Bradley’s face remaining turned to him though his eyes were lowered and his cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted in longing – Colin pushing, not quite getting it right, but they were brave enough to try again – and then he was pushing inside – Bradley crying out, arching back, his hands clumsily reaching for Colin, encouraging him, reassuring him, despite the pain. ‘ _Please_ …’

‘My darling man, yes… Bradley, _yes_ …’ And they were joined together at last, and Bradley lay back, open to him, completely open to him. And soon, soon, despite the shared pain of it, Colin was coming within his love, calling out, then saying ‘love’ and ‘yours’ and ‘forever’.

‘I am whole again,’ said Bradley quite calmly while Colin lay quaking in his arms, while they were still joined together. ‘You have made me whole again.’

‘I have made you mine,’ Colin replied.

After a moment he carefully eased up, brought Bradley with him so his rear was resting on the top of Colin’s thighs. Took Bradley’s manhood into his hand, and encouraged it back into fullness – took Bradley’s balls into the other hand, rolling them against his palm. Bradley’s arms down at his sides along the bed, his hands grasping hard at Colin, Bradley’s legs encompassing his waist – all of him pushing down against where Colin still possessed him. Bradley suddenly arching back, and bearing down harder still – and he was coming, coming, the salty ocean spray splattering across his strong stomach and chest – shouting out Colin’s name, calling out his love.

Slowly, then, as Bradley returned to himself, they disengaged, and they lay together, cosy and close in each other’s arms. They drifted in and out of sleep, utterly comfortable.

‘And now it is done,’ Colin murmured as the afternoon stretched on.

‘We are made whole,’ Bradley sleepily agreed, turning into him, a hand starting to lazily find its way back down to Colin’s hip.

‘Then let no man put us asunder.’

‘No man ever will,’ Bradley vowed.

They said it as one: ‘Amen.’ And then they loved again.

♦


End file.
